Samba del Arenal

Field flower, in springtime
The wind sings at dawn
On the sand, the crabs
Scurry through the foam of your feet
I sing to the stork to bless the fruit of your skin
How the mermaids are born
When the sea starts to stir

Why do you need legs if you can swim?
Why do you need land if you have the sea?
Why do you need the smoke of the big city?
Why do you need roads if you can float?

From your wet hair hang the waves of the sea
And in your little mouth that tastes like watermelon, I love to explore
In your waist, the fish navigate your circular skin
And in your scales, the breeze of the holy shore gets stuck

And in the afternoon, the tide shakes us to the swimmer's rhythm
From afar, the palm trees
Are pouring out tanning oil
And hands on your skin fly as the sun sets
And in your belly, the fruit of love is conceived

In your little eyes, the lights of the port reflect when you turn
In your whisper hides the voice of the lunar shipwreck
From your fins, the dreams of an old palm grove get tangled
On your traveling back, this holy shore fades away

From your wet hair hang the waves of the sea
And in your little mouth that tastes like watermelon, I love to explore
In your waist, the fish navigate your circular skin
And in your scales, the breeze of the holy shore gets stuck
(Have you been to Bahia, Donald? No? Well, let's go!)